


Our Flag Will Always Fly

by tablefootie



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Aerial Combat, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/F, F/M, Gen, Military, Modern Royalty, More characters to come, Politics, modern warfare - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28135632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tablefootie/pseuds/tablefootie
Summary: After the tumultuous year that was 2020, and being separated for the past few months, Queen Elsa and Princess Anna are looking forward to having a good start to the new year back home in Oslo. Unfortunately for the sisters, familiar enemies intend to take advantage of the current state of the world to pursue their nefarious objectives.
Relationships: Elsa/Honeymaren (Disney)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	1. Prologue: A Perfect Day For Flying

**MAY 2010**   
  
**_Royal Norwegian Air Force Flight Training School_ **   
**_Bardufoss Air Station_ **

It was a warm late spring morning, with just a few clouds in the sky, CAVOK weather, the perfect day for flying. Maren felt the warm sun enhancing her confidence as she strolled to her waiting plane. Today it was a cute, little, bright yellow Saab Supporter, the Air Force’s primary training aircraft. She performed the visual inspection of her plane, before climbing in, alone for the first time. After weeks of classes and hours of practice with her instructors, she had been deemed fit for her first solo flight, and one of the first two of her cohort to do so.

After turning the ignition key and cranking the piston engine to life, Maren checked that all the temperatures and pressures were in the green band of her cockpit gauges. Just then, a familiar sound caught her attention as an F-16 roared down the runway, performing a touch and go, and then soaring back up into the heavens. Maren couldn’t help but cheer, it had to be a good omen that her favourite plane just happened to make an appearance on such an important day of her flying career. She thought it was the most beautiful flying machine ever designed, the perfect blend of elegance and aggression. Since she first discovered its existence, she wanted nothing more than to fly in one.

That is until she met the Elsa. When she met the blonde for the first time at academy, it was all she could do to avoid staring at the crown princess. At first, Elsa was stuffy and aloof, happy to sit silently alone in class. Maren didn’t give up so easily and endeavoured to get to know the future queen better. Slowly Elsa’s icy façade melted, revealing a warm hearted perfectionist that reserved the harshest criticisms for herself.

Now after a year of officer training together, while not fully integrated into the group, Elsa could definitely be considered part of it. After all, she wasn’t as much of a people person as her younger sister was. Maren was the exception, Elsa having formed a bond that was closer than any she had had outside her immediate family. They had a special connection, more than just being one of the few women in the class. Maren wanted more than that though. She knew Elsa wasn’t into guys, but was she into her? After all, it was the 21st century in one of the most progressive countries in the world, but would a poor girl on an armed forces scholarship have any real future with literal royalty? 

“Did you just scream at that Falcon?” Elsa radioed while staring in mock surprise from the other Supporter, over an unused frequency that they had made into their own private channel. Being the perfectionist that she was, she was climbed the top of the class on her own merit.

“No, I _cheered_ at that _Viper_ ,” corrected Maren.

“Last time I checked, the F-16’s official name was Fighting Falcon,” Elsa continued, “Viper is the name of that spaceship from that sci-fi drama you like. Besides, they are in _my_ air force, so I could change the name to Sir Jorgenbjorgen and you’ll have to accept it.”

“Sure, name these works of art after your flightless bird plush. There’ll be munity and I will lead it!”

“You’re the flightless bird!” Elsa laughed as she taxied her plane forward, having multitasked during the banter and completed her checks first. They had agreed beforehand that whoever got moving first would get the honour of being the first solo flight of the class.

“Goddamit Elsa,” Maren muttered with a smile and a shake of her head, surprised that the prim and proper princess would resort to subterfuge. She couldn’t find it in herself to be irritated, yet alone angry at the ruse. Instead she felt a strange sense of pride in helping Elsa was becoming her own person, away from the nation’s expectations of her. Even if nothing further developed, she wanted Elsa to be a big part of her life, and hoped it wasn’t wishful thinking that she thought Elsa wanted at least as much as well.

Maren finished her checks and caught up to a safe distance behind Elsa and then they took off, alone in their respective aircraft but together in spirit. Falling into a practiced routine, Maren performed three take off and landings each, proving to their watching instructors that they could competently do so and proceed with the next phase of their pilot training. Still during the workload lulls, she managed to appreciate the beautiful Norwegian late spring morning. The surrounding evergreens, the snow-capped mountains, the sun reflecting off pristine waters of the nearby fjord. 

Yet all these sights paled in comparison to the glimpses of the blonde in front of her.

 _I’m so screwed,_ Maren thought to herself, shaking her head at how badly she had been smitten. _She’s just starting to let you in, don’t scare her away!_

When she lined up for her final landing, she spied a black sedan waiting near the parking area. She figured it must be the Royalty Protection Unit, but Elsa’s had no reason to come into the secure airbase. She felt a tinge of panic when she thought that there could be credible threat against her. Another part of her mind argued for a less dramatic reason.

_Maybe Elsa’s family had come to congratulate her for her first solo flight. But Elsa wouldn’t want attention drawn to her like that. Plus her parents are on their Pacific tour and Anna’s at school._

Maren barely broke her train of thought in time to perform a relatively hard landing, one that her instructor would be sure to comment on during the debrief. She taxied her plane to park next to Elsa’s, where she had to consciously concentrate on her shutdown tasks and prevent herself from staring as the blonde walked over while fixing her helmet hair, aviator shades barely hiding her big blue eyes. Without warning, but with a soft squeal, Elsa enveloped Maren in a hug once she disembarked; leaving the latter longing for the touch once she got over the surprise.

“How was it, _Honey_?” Elsa asked, using Maren’s callsign.

“Uhh… Feels like I can do this for a living,” Maren manged to respond after a short pause to gather her wits. At the corner of her eye, Maren noticed the head of Elsa’s protection detail walking over.

“Glad to have you in my service,” Elsa replied with a smile, apparently oblivious of the approach of the large mountain of a man walking over, about to interrupt whatever moment was happening between the two twenty year old women.

“What do you think agent Marsh wants?” Maren tilted her head to the black-suited bodyguard.

“Hmm?” Elsa looked at the indicated direction. “Oh what _is_ he doing here? And not wearing a safety vest either.”

Maren’s heart fluttered as she realised that Elsa’s attention was so focused on her, she had not seen the man approach. It soon turned to apprehension when the usually stoic man wore a mask of concern. Elsa saw it too.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, managing to keep her voice level.

“Your majesty, you may want to hear this in private.”

 _Majesty?_ Maren wondered. _What could have happened to make ol’ Marshmallow use a wrong title like that?_

“Whatever it concerns, Maren can hear it too. And don’t call me that,” Elsa said firmly.

Marsh looked at both of the trainee pilots for a second before continuing slowly, “King Agarr and Queen Iduna’s jet is missing. The last radar and radio contact was almost six hours ago. Fuel would have run out four hours after that.”

Maren had to fight to keep her jaw from dropping, but a gasp managed to escape. Elsa wasn’t so easily flustered though. Her poise became more rigid and she clasped her hands in front of her regally, slipping back into her royal training.

“We need to get back to Oslo. Has the PM called a crisis meeting yet? Get me a copy of the flight plan. Which agencies from which countries have jurisdiction for search and rescue? And I need to call Anna, she can’t find this out on the news.” Elsa ordered, while walking off to her car while her bodyguard tried to answer her questions.

“Elsa, I’ll be here if you need me. Give me a call if you need someone to talk to,” Maren hurriedly offered but was still rooted to the spot.

Elsa stopped in her tracks momentarily, and without looking back said “I’m sorry Lieutenant Nattura, it appears I’ll be busy until this crisis is over.”


	2. Behind Friendly Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna celebrates her homecoming by taking her new toy for a spin

_Since achieving independence, the former Soviet republic of Weseltonia has struggled to match the prosperity and progress of her Scandinavian neighbours. Leveraging his family lineage and wealth, the Duke of Weselton led his party, the right wing Weseltonia Forever party to a convincing victory with promises to bring Weseltonia the wealth and status she deserved. Now, five years later, there has been little economic improvement but instead suffering from increased poverty and rampant corruption. The Duke’s increasingly authoritarian government, almost to the level it once was as a duchy of the Russian Empire, has led to frigid relationships with other European nations. Facing a tough challenge in the scheduled elections this spring, the government has started cracking down on dissenting voices, jailing government critics and opposition lawmakers, in essence wiping out all political opposition. Local and international human rights organisations claim many have been falsely imprisoned on trumped up chargers or have disappeared outright. This has caused mass anti-government demonstrations in many cities in Weseltonia over the weekend, despite Coronavirus fears as well as violence from riot police. Demonstrations have even spread to the sizable Weseltonian immigrant population in neighbouring Norway, where violence broke out between pro and anti-government protestors last night. Analysts caution that the Duke appears to have made preparations to maintain power by declaring marshal law, pointing to the recent military mobilisation which the government has defended as a routine training exercise. What his actual plan is, as well as the response from neighbouring countries, remains to be seen. This is Greg Burnett, W.W.N. reporting from Weselton City._

_-Broadcast January 3rd 2021_

**Captain H.R.H. Crown Princess Anna Arendelle**  
**No. 332 Squadron (F-35A Lightning II)**  
**Royal Norwegian Air Force**

**_Restricted Airspace D-557_ **  
**_Near the Norway – Weseltonia Border, Northern Norway_ **

Anna loved flying, especially on a clear late winter’s morning such as this. Flying in the most advanced aircraft yet produced was icing on the cake. Usually she could experience a few moments of freedom, breaking earthly bonds, briefly forgetting all the responsibilities that being a 21st century, second in line to the throne royal ensued. Not she unwelcomed them all, Anna did, in fact enjoy many of her royal duties especially those related to charity and the environment. Today, however, was not one of those days. Today she had a mission, and ahead of her were others trying to stop her from accomplishing it.

The F-35 was a stealth aircraft, but that doesn’t mean that it was invisible. It could still be detected, especially at close range and from the sides. Her sensors were on passive mode, using her opposition's own radar emissions and heat signatures to detect them instead. The enemy aircraft knew she was coming, and had arranged themselves accordingly. Anna easily dodged past the first pair of enemies, but closer to her target, a quartet of fighters ahead of her were flying line abreast and would detect her if they continued on their current trajectory. Turning around would put her in the path of the pair she had just past.

Just then, the F-35’s infrared sensors picked up second pair of enemies behind the quartet, looking for her on the other side of the target. Thinking quickly, she selected her two AMRAAM radar guided missiles. Her HUD symbology changed to missile firing mode - target boxes for the new arrivals appeared and she cued the missiles over them. She mashed the fire button on the control stick twice, and felt the missile bay doors open and quickly close. A pair of triangles on her radar display tracked the missile’s flight all the way to their targets.

“Ice Palace confirming missile kills on Hostile Three and Four,” came the acknowledgement from the command centre back at Bodo. The ploy worked and the quartet turned away to where their comrades had fallen, giving Anna a clear path to her target. It was a relatively routine process to line her jet up, aim her laser designator on the target and drop her Paveway bombs. The bomb bay doors opened and shut again, and the fighter felt much lighter after shedding two tonnes of ordnance. A timer above crosshairs centred on a collection of shipping containers counted down the seconds to impact.

“Direct hits, target destroyed,” Ice Palace emotionlessly reported the damage assessment.

“Time to get the hell outta dodge,” Anna said to herself, as she banked her F-35 to her planned southern egress route. It was then that an urgent beep alerted her that a pair of radars had just been activated on her right side and were trying to acquire her. The first pair of enemy fighters had not been fooled by Anna’s ruse and had rushed ambush her over the target. Now detected, Anna accelerated and dived, trying to open up the distance and give herself some breathing room. The F-35 had sacrificed some flight performance in exchange for stealth, which meant that older fighters were often more agile. This held true in this instance and the pursuing fighters had little trouble keeping up.

Anna waited for the inevitable missile approach warning but none came. Instead the chasing fighters kept closing in, already well within their launch envelope. They were coming in for a guns kill. Unbiddenly, she recalled an instructor once telling her that a modern fighter pilot would only resort to guns out of desperation or disrespect.

“No one disrespects me,” grumbled Anna as the opposing fighters continued to close the gap. Now they were close enough for her to pick out their large bubble canopies and ventral intakes which blended into cropped delta wings. Enough for her to identify them as F-16s, if she didn’t already know what they were.

She resolved to make them work for their kill. With a grin on her face, Anna danced in the sky, steaking contrails, jinking and juking to throw off her purser’s aims. Altogether having more fun than she should be, given the circumstances. Nevertheless she was well aware that this battle could only end one way. When one of the pursuing F-16s carried too much speed and turned slightly wide, she saw her chance for a face-saving outcome. She cut her thrust and extended her airbrakes, forcing the F-16 to overshoot right in front of her. She mashed the fire button as the smaller jet momentarily entered her gun’s crosshairs. Unfortunately her maneuverer also left her depleted of energy and a relatively stationary sitting duck for the second one.

“Moderate damage on Hostile Two, Guns kill on Princess One. End of exercise,” Ice Palace announced.

“Dang it!” Anna exclaimed. “I was hoping to take you with me Kjekk.”

“Better luck next time, your highness. It was a great shot, if I do say so myself. I’m going to get the gun camera screenshot printed,” Kjekk, flying Hostile One, teased over the common radio channel. “I’ll call it ‘Regicide’. Would you want a copy?”

“Hey! You realise I could have blown you out of the sky much earlier. In fact I’ll show you my radar tape, you can see how long I had a missile locked on to you, and I’ll call it ‘Princess’s Mercy’,” Anna shot back. Having attended flying school together and Anna’s general friendliness meant that she was happy to give banter and dish it back out, despite her royal title.

“Anna! You’re still supposed to be in quarantine!” a stern voice suddenly came over the radio.

“Oh heyyyy Elsa! You’re here early! Umm… I already got my results back in the morning and it was negative!” Anna defended. Elsa must have dropped by at the command centre and noticed the training mission being conducted.

“Well I came early to surprise you once you left your quarantine, which doesn’t end until an hour from now! You need to set an example, both as a royal and an officer,” Elsa admonished. She had naturally started counting from the time Anna began pre-departure quarantine Luke Air Force Base, Arizona

“I missed Christmas, New Years and your birthday, that’s plenty of examples! Plus I’m the only person on board my plane, so technically I’m still quarantining!” Anna cheekily replied. She could feel her sister roll her eyes in response. Trying to change the subject, she continued, “So how are you liking your newest defence purchases? Pretty neat, huh?”

“That wasn’t very impressive, Anna,” Elsa teased, her tone softening, despite seeing through the redhead’s ruse. “I expected more after all your months spent training in the States. Oh well that’s a billion Kroners down the drain.”

“Rude! Not like you could do much better. It was eight on one!” Anna protested, although she had set the mission parameters herself as a challenge.

“Whatever you say! Remember, we’ve got a bunch of press to do in a couple of hours. Don’t take too long with the rest of your joyride or you’ll be!” Elsa reminded, still the big sister to the 28 year old redhead. Anna’s return home at the vanguard of Norway’s first F-35 squadron naturally attracted media attention. The rest of the newly converted squadron would be returning over the next few days.

“You’re the one always taking longer to get ready,” Anna attempted to riposte. Technically true, but since the younger sibling often started the process too late. An awkwardly long period of silence followed. “Uh Elsa, you still there?”

“Apologies, something came up. See you when you get back,” Elsa replied in a calm, regal tone, but Anna knew her sister well enough to recognise that something serious had occurred and guessed another protest had taken a turn violent enough to demand the head of state's attention. 

“Real world situation ,radar is reporting a large contact approaching the border. Suspected military surveillance aircraft. You guys want to shepherd it away?” Ice Palace’s previous radio operator came back on air in place of Elsa.

“Kjekk, how’s your fuel state?” Anna queried.

“I’ve still got enough. Got the target on my radar. Datalinking now.” Weseltonia had increased the frequency and aggressiveness military patrols in the recent months, sometimes even allowing access for to her large eastern neighbour's aircraft as well.

“Alright guys, form on me, let’s give them an air show!” Anna instructed cheerily as the intruding aircraft appeared on her tactical display. She kept her own radar off, to deny the spy plane a chance to analyse the F-35’s advanced bit of equipment. The eight F-16s formed up, with her F-35 at the head of an impressive V-formation.

“Damn we look good flying like this. You think it’s the Russians or Weseltonians this time? Your ex is a pretty big shot over at Weseltonia now right? Maybe he can get us one of the photos they are going to take of us. Some external shots would be great, definitely picture of the month material, minimum.” Kjekk had an immense interest in photography, and several of his photos framed in the squadron rooms were testament to his skills.

“Bleh, I obviously don’t have as much interest in him as you do. Want me to make an introduction?”

“Nah, no thanks. In all seriousness though, if he is on board that jet, I’m sure we’ll all testify that they suffered a catastrophic, unexplained engine failure,” Kjekk added as they approached the airliner sized plane.

“Appreciate the offer, but I’m not about to start a war over a snake like him. Tempting as it is...” Anna savoured the thought a little more, then turned back to the present business and switched to broadcast on the international emergency frequency. “Unidentified aircraft, you are approaching Norwegian restricted airspace. Turn to heading zero-eight-zero to avoid.”

No reply, as expected. However the incoming plane maintained its course into Norwegian airspace, instead of silently complying like they usually did. Anna was about to call again when an urgent beep caught her attention.

 _MISSILE,_ Anna’s tactical display warned. The rear arc of her aircraft’s icon flashed red, telling her the position of the threat. She quickly overcame her surprise and checked if she had left her sensors in training mode. She hadn’t. A real missile was heading her way. Her training quickly told her that the missile would be a heat seeker; a radar guided missile would have been detected sooner. 

“Incoming! Flares!” Anna warned. The F-16s had less sophisticated equipment and would not have picked up the incoming missile. Muscle memory took over. She performed a half loop and pulled the stick back, putting her F-35 into a sharp downward dive while deploying decoy flares. A bursting black cloud and slight shudder marked the detonation of a missile uncomfortably close by, distracted by the decoys and then unable to match her dive. Fireballs meant that at least two of her friends failed to evade their missiles.

“What happe… Been hit… Where… down…” startled pilots talked over each other over the radio. This added to the cacophony of warning alarms, as enemy fighters, having sprung the trap, activated their radars and targeted her jet.

“Protect the princess!” Kjekk’s comparatively steady voice asserted through the noise.

“Negative, negative! Everyone disengage,” Anna ordered, not wanting anyone jeopardising their lives just for her. As she executed sharp turn to shake off another missile as blue delta shape darted past, the distinct profile of a Mirage. Only one country nearby operated them. “Fuckin’ Weasels,” Anna spat.

Despite her instruction, Anna saw two F-16s dutifully falling into covering positions behind her. They lasted less than a minute before being sent spiralling down in flames as more Weseltonian jets took up pursuit behind them. She guessed there were at least six. Calls on the radio went unanswered, which she deduced meant she was getting jammed. Anna dived and turned, trying to open up the distance, but ended up getting lower and slower as she expanded energy defeating a couple more missiles with ever narrowing margins. A chime informed her that she had finally expanded the last of her chaff and flares. She rolled lower into the mountain range, putting the terrain in between herself and a chasing missile. The missile impacted the mountaintop but the Weseltonian pilots hung back, waiting for a clearer shot.

 _Out of decoys, out of options, out of luck,_ Anna rued as she spotted a missile launching from a under the wing of a Mirage. The R.550 Magic missile streaked towards her, trailing a line of smoke as it homed in, and detonated. Her jet shook violently as the fragmentation warhead chewed through the rear half of the F-35. Alarms blared and red lights flashed in the cockpit at the same time as her controls immediately went dead and unresponsive.

“Ice Palace! We have been ambushed by Weseltonian fighters. Pilots down. I’ve been hit. Ejecting now!” transmitted Anna one final time before pulling the yellow and black ejection handle between her legs. Lanyards pulled her arm and legs taunt to the seat while explosive cords shattered the canopy. The seat’s rocket motor ignited, propelling her out of her stricken aircraft with such a force that she was knocked unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those celebrating, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!


	3. Den of Theives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title says it all. Happy New Year!

_Gaining independence from the Russian Empire amidst the latter’s revolutions and civil war immediately following First World War, Weseltonia’s sovereignty proved to be short lived. Secret negations between the Western Allies and the Soviets had carved up European spheres of influence between the two superpowers and Scandinavia was no exception. Having initially supported the Nazi regime and with little to offer in return, Weseltonia was deemed an acceptable loss to the Soviets who wanted to annex its former territory. With access to the Gulf of Bothnia plus land borders with neutral Sweden and Finland as well as the eventual NATO member Norway; the Soviets gladly claimed their prize._

_-Why the Soviets Were the True Victors of the Second World War_

**Hans Westergaard**   
**Ducal Chief of Staff**

_**Secure Situation Room** _   
_**Weselton People’s Palace, Weselton City** _

All things considered, Hans should still be proud of what he had accomplished. In the few short years since getting stripped of his titles and subsequent exile, he had not only managed to survive, but thrive in his adopted country. The corridors of power of an increasingly autocratic country had proved to be an ideal habitat for the thirteenth child used to cunning and ruthlessness to achieve his goals. A whisper here or a subtle suggestion there set off infighting that he was always able to take advantage of to advance his own position. His charisma lowered defences and in short order, earned him the ear of the Duke himself. Which proved useful when Hans informed the Duke that his previous Chief of Staff was selecting people of questionable loyalty. Now he had the third highest post in the land. He should have been happy.

Instead, beneath a mask of civility, Hans was seething. The tapping of his fingers on the oak table was the only outward sign of his displeasure. Because, standing in front a large map of northern Norway facing the rest of the room was General Erik, the Minister of Defence and the deputy party leader. The large man, dressed in his red uniform, commanded the attention of the room, explaining how his sources had discovered that Princess Anna was on a training mission this morning. How he seized the opportunity to not only eliminate a significant portion of their enemies’ air force, but also capture the royal. He even had the gall to acknowledge Hans for this idea, a show of dominance to give credit to your closest rival, if Hans ever saw one. The redhead there and then resolved to make him regret his hubris.

When reports came back that all the Norwegian fighters had been destroyed, the Duke of Weselton, stood up to his meagre height and applauded. The bald and spectacled man was wearing a full military dress uniform adorned with unearned medals and a holstered Colt .45, one that Hans knew he kept loaded but was barely proficient at operating. However those who underestimated the Duke’s did so at their own peril, ending up merely purged was a positive outcome. Along with the rest of the room, Hans applauded as well; his irritation with General Erik growing with the latter’s success and favour.

General Erik continued outlining his military plan to the other ministers who were hearing it for the first time. Hans heard it before; he had been privy to the planning and had lobbied to the Duke against it, arguing that such overt military action would invite a unified response from NATO, despite the political uncertainties in the alliances’ major members. Instead, he had devised a series of false flag and fake news events to create unrest among the Weseltonian population in Norway and then stage an audacious kidnapping of Princess Anna. He had first-hand experience off how the queen could be thrown off her game when the safety of her sister was in doubt. Hans’s plan was favoured by the Duke but he had chosen to make preparations for both in parallel. General Erik had seen to opportunity to upstage Hans and strengthen his own position. It rankled Hans to see the general successfully incorporate both their plans into a grand scheme, he should have thought of it . Hans had barely an hour of notice from his own sources that General Erik was imminently ambushing Princess Anna’s flight and had accelerated his invasion plans.

_Stand back and stand by,_ Hans reminded himself, _Erik will overreach and I must be ready to capitalise on it._

“This is a good omen,” the Duke of Weselton responded when General Erik finished his self-congratulatory briefing. The sides of the general’s lips started to twitch up to a triumphant grin when the Duke continued, “but has our military been able make the necessary preparations? The planned invasion date is almost a week from now.”

“Your excellency, I had ordered all our spearhead units to be ready to move at a moment’s notice. Any delays to the timetable would be couple of hours at most,” Erik confidently stated, but Hans noticed a slight hesitation before the answer. He made a mental note to check up on unit readiness once he had the chance. He knew from his previous military service that the logistics required to pivot from a military training exercise to an actual offensive was significant, 

The Duke spoke again. “Mister Westergaard, have our friends been informed? Will they be able to accelerate their timetable as well?”

With the Foreign Minister generally ineffective, Hans was able to position himself to unofficially usurp the role, still having a vast network of back channel contacts that he could tap, despite his fall from grace. More importantly, it bestowed upon him more political capital in the government, which he enthusiastically welcomed.

“Yes I managed to talk to them before we started. They will begin to mobilise troops at the border as agreed. As for the additional assets, they will be operation later today,” Hans replied.

“Excellent! See what the two of you can accomplish if you just work together? Now general, when can I expect to play host to royalty?”

“My best men are already on site, they will have her dead or alive shortly,” Erik responded.

“Preferably alive, general. Our history aside, her death would make Queen Elsa very angry and extremely unpredictable. Remember, we are trying to avoid a protracted conflict. We better hope that Anna survived her shoot down or a protracted conflict would be exactly what her sister would give us,” Hans cautioned, at the same time narrowing what General Erik could define as a success.

“Our pilots reported a parachute and my men have already been briefed,” General Erik barely controlled his tone in reply.

“The fate of _our_ country may depend on it,” Hans stressed, implicitly reminding everyone that he was now a citizen of Weselton instead of his homeland. General Erik glared angrily at his rebuke. Ignoring the implied threat, Hans turned to the Duke, “Your excellency, if I may be excused, I would like to check in with our benefactors.”

The Duke nodded in acquiescence and Hans got out of his seat and left the room, closing the soundproof doors behind him. He pulled out his phone and checked that the signal had been reacquired, the situation room was shielded from electronic transmissions to enhance security. Most of the room’s current occupants had to turn over their devices to guards outside, but he was granted an exemption due to high position in the party. Hans activated his phone encryption and clicked the contact marked ‘Sitron’. It was answered before the second ring.

“Yes sire.”

“Do you have the location of the F-35 crash site yet?” Hans asked directly.

A short pause. “I just got it in my hands right now, sir.”

“Change of plans. You and your team are to head there immediately. Erik may have caught us off guard, but I have a way to get us back on top.”

* * *

**Senior Lieutenant ‘Francis’**   
**Weseltonian Special Purpose Troops**

**_Near the Norway – Weseltonia Border_ **

“Stabilise,” Francis ordered over the intercom headset. His world tilted back slightly as the pilot responded, slowing the Mi-35 Hind assault helicopter to a hover. He aimed his Dragunov sniper rifle out the gunship troop compartment’s open window.

Below him, standing out against the white snow in an olive green g-suit, was his target. The pilot ran for the cover of denser woods, knowing that she had been spotted. Francis drew a bead on his quarry, impressed that she still had the presence of mind to zig-zag while running, making his job slightly more tough. He squeezed the trigger, and the pilot’s left thigh erupted in blood. She yelped in pain and rolled in the snow as her momentum carried her on. Her helmet came off in the fall, revealing shoulder length blonde hair. 

_Not the pilot we’re looking for,_ thought Francis as he watched the blonde struggle to her feet and drag her unresponsive leg to the relative safety of the treeline, leaving a bloody trail. Again, he found himself impressed by the tenacity of pilot, a worth heir of her Viking ancestors. Still he didn’t hesitate as he loosed two more bullets into her chest, sending her crumping face down into the snow one final time.

“It’s not her. Pilot neutralised. Move on to the next one,” Francis said into his headset.

“Senior Lieutenant, we have confirmed the location of Princess Anna’s crash site. Shall we proceed there now?” Despite nominally outranking Francis, the pilot still deferred to him, as Francis was a feared Spetznaz officer.

“At once,” replied Francis, before looking back out and admiring his grizzly handiwork. The scarlet of the blood trail, pooling beneath the pilot’s lifeless body. The golden blonde hair splayed out like a halo around her head. All on otherwise pristine white snow, where the late pilot’s discarded parachute flapped lamely in the breeze just a few dozen metres away. Where a master painter used a brush on canvas, he used his rifle on the battlefield. He would decide the fate of nations, and he was just getting started. He turned to the rest of his four man team.

“Get ready boys! We’re hunting a princess.”


	4. Heart of the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elsa tries to make sense of the situation

_The Norwegian Joint Headquarters is the county’s primary military command bunker and has operational control of all Norwegian forces worldwide. Located at Bodø, it is also the primary conduit of NATO’s Allied Command North, reporting to Allied Air Command at Ramstein, Germany, as well as to Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe (SHAPE) at Brussels. Commanded by a Lieutenant General, it uses the radio callsign ‘Ice Palace’.  
_

_-Post Cold War NATO Command Structures_

**H.M. Queen Elsa Arendelle**  
**Head of State**

_**Norwegian Joint Headquarters** _  
_**Bodø Main Air Station** _

Elsa stood unmoving amidst the organised chaos. On the large screens in front of her were a map of Norway, news feeds of the apparently coordinated bombings of the large demonstrations in Oslo and Narvik, as well as the video links with her ministers in Oslo. Around her, uniformed men and women worked at computers, collating reports and sending instructions or queries back out. She felt slowly being overwhelmed by the torrent of information and fought the urge to run out of the bunker.

Her decade of reign had been one crisis after another, as if the universe was punishing her for some unknown slight. Maybe her family was cursed. After all, her grandfather had only ascended the throne after not one, but two regicides, one shortly before the Nazi occupation began and the second just before it ended. Then Runeard’s early death put her father, a then teenaged Agnarr in charge. Now, almost ten years after their fateful trip, her parent’s plane had still not been found. Was it her turn to face her reckoning now? And would she be found wanting?

 _Conceal, don’t feel,_ Elsa reminded herself. _You’re representing a millennia old crown, your people are looking to you for leadership. You cannot afford to let them down by showing weakness._ She pushed down her bubbling insecurities back into the recesses of her mind. For now, even if she didn’t feel it, she had to act like the confident leader she always had to be.

“… critically injured have been sent to hospital so far,” Prime Minister Kai continued on the video link from his Oslo office read off a piece of paper just handed to him. He looked flustered, but had managed to keep an even tone. “And to make matters worse, the Weseltonian Foreign Ministry just sent out an official Tweet holding us responsible for the safety of all their citizens in Norway. Failure of which will result in _unwanted consequences._ ”

 _How dare Weselton threaten us after we had just suffered multiple terrorist attacks? How did the bombs get into our cities in the first place? How did we miss this?_ Slowly her fears of her own inadequacy were being replaced by concern for her country and citizens. 

“How could an attack on this scale happen? Was there any chatter that something big was about to happen?" Elsa demanded but tried to moderate her tone so she did not accuse. The last thing she needed was infighting among her own people.

Defence Minister Gerda calmly replied, “None of the groups or people of interest we were monitoring had any fore knowledge of these attacks. Whoever did this had a separate, independent network. Bomb samples have been retrieved. I suspect we will find explosives of a quality surpassing that of improvised devices.”

“You’re implying a state sponsored attack, which would be an act of war. Do you have any evidence other than conjecture?” United States Army Brigadier General Mattias inquired. As the NATO liaison, he had stake in the question as a foreign attack would entitle Norway to ask military assistance from the rest of the alliance.

“Not enough to invoke Article 5 yet. We are going through security and social media feeds to trace the bombers,” answered Gerda.

“I’ll call Brussels and put the council on notice that it could be in the works. And maybe Washington after just to see if anyone answers,” Mattias added self-depreciatingly at the post-election political chaos back home.

“We cannot overreact and escalate the situation,” Elsa stated firmly. “For now just use police to disperse the demonstrators, or at least keep the different camps of apart. Until we know better, we should be prepared for further attacks. Have the army units stand by in barracks, just in case. ”

Lieutenant General Yelana was the base commander and had stepped forward after receiving a new report, still holding a handset. “I’ve just received word that the Sør-Varanger garrison have observed Russian military vehicles approaching the border. T-80 tanks and BMP infantry fighting vehicles with belonging to the 200th Motor Rifle Brigade.”

Tense silence followed. Elsa felt fear creeping into her mind as the images of an overwhelming Russian invasion overwhelming her country raced through her mind. Again she kept her emotions in check.

“What is their strength? Doing what? Were there any scheduled exercises?” Elsa just about managed to hide the shock from her voice. Yelana shook her head, answering the latter question while she spoke into her handset.

“For they just seem to be parking. Waiting. Nothing hostile yet. Our troops are monitoring the situation and I've given them clearance to move to the pre-planned defensive locations,” Yelana responded once she got a reply. The silence continued again and Elsa realised that everyone was looking to her for the next move.

“Mobilise the Armoured Battalion at Setermoen and have their quick reaction force sent to the border right away, but keep them away from the border for now. We don’t want to inadvertently escalate the situation." Elsa paused as she went through her mental list of military units, looking for those that could respond quickly. "Put the Commandos on the tarmac in case we need to air drop them in.”

"The Jagers are always ready," Yelana assured confidently, before she turned and enacted Elsa's instructions.

Mattias spoke quietly to Elsa. “Things are crazy back home right now but a blatant invasion like this would be the kick in the butt needed for people to get heads out of asses. Heck it might even be enough to unify NATO. Which is why the Russians won’t do it, not this way at least.”

“I agree, it even lacks the finesse of their usual schemes. Plus if they were planning on invading, they won’t be just sitting around in front of us. Could they be trying to provoke an overreaction? We’re missing something,” Elsa mused, a deep frown on her forehead.

Recent Russian military actions had been against countries that were formerly part of the Soviet Union and had serious internal political divisions that were exploited as an excuse for intervention. Neither situation applied to Norway. Soviet forces had liberated the northernmost province of Finnmark in early 1945 but had left within the year. They had no claim to the land. And there were certainly no Russian speaking areas that had any wish to reunite with Mother Russia. 

As Elsa pondered the situation, she felt like she had to caught up with the situation outside and calmed down a little. Things were far from ideal, but her forces were reacting, and the situation was being contained. Gerda announced that security cameras had identified suspects and their movements were being retraced. The people around her bustled to put her orders to action, she had wrestled some of control back, and was gaining the initiative and momentum. Soon the next action would be on her terms. Then Kai spoke from the video feed again. “The main electrical exchange outside Oslo has been bombed.” One of the news channels showed a column of smoke rising from the distance. “Only minor damage, looks worse than it is,” he sighed in relief as he read latter part of the message.

“That’s an odd choice of a target," Gerda commented quickly. "Even successful it woul-“ the defence minister was cut off as all the video feeds went blank. A few seconds later the bunker’s lights went out too, leaving its occupants drenched in red emergency lighting.

 _Too many coincidences. Something is really wrong._ Elsa felt the walls closing in again. Disapproving ancestors with judging stares looking down at her.

 _Conceal, don’t feel._ She pushed away her self-doubt and channeled it into action.

“Right.” Elsa endeavoured against herself to take control of the situation before panic or confusion could take root. “We’ve planned for a cyberattack like this. Check if our off network devices still work. Get the landlines up and running. And someone check why the back-up generator hasn’t kicked in yet.” Just as she finished speaking, the redundant system finally activated and many of the screens turned back on only to show static or blank screens. Among the people around her, she spied a young communications officer looking nervously at her.

“What is it?” she asked, checking his rank and thought he looked too young for the captain’s stars he was wearing.

“The external phone lines are dead, um… ma'am.” He couldn’t look his monarch in the eye, as though he was personally responsible for the issue.

“Weren’t they designed to be resilient to this specific attack?” Elsa allowed her voice to reflect some of her frustrations and the young captain looked like he expected to be executed for incompetence. She chided herself for her tone, remembering that she wasn’t dealing with a man twice her age, but one who was likely a full decade younger than her.

Raising a hand in apology, she tried again. “What’s your name, Captain?”

“It is Varian, ma’am… Majesty.”

“Alright Varian, we have just been a victim of a highly sophisticated attack. We need comms back up or we’re just a bunch of people in a hole in the ground. What can you do to help us remedy that?”

“Yes ah… but no, not from here. I can start backing up and purging our systems right away, but the only reason for the phones to be dead is for the lines to be physically cut. Our satellites communications are being jammed as well, and they would need a powerful nearby or airborne transmitter to black us out like this.” Varian grew increasingly confident the more he talked about his subject matter.

“That would mean operatives in country to sabotage the lines. And organised enough to coordinate with this cyberattack,” Yelana added.

“A communication disruption of this scale can only mean one thing, invasion,” Mattias apparently changed his initial assessment. “What about standard radio sets? We need to get the word out and coordinate our defence.”

“It would work, but at shorter ranges. In fact I have a additional plans to use our aircraft to act as radio relays, but we risk our messages being intercepted as they are sent. And I’m not sure how affected the broadcast ranges will be but from my initial reading, it will be at least halved,” Varian elaborated. "

 _If nothing else has gone wrong,_ Elsa's mind nagged at her.

Nevertheless, she shared a quick glance with Yelana and Mattias, who both nodded. They needed to know what was happening in the rest of the country. Desperate times called for desperate measures, at least until the tactical situation could be clarified.

“Do it,” Elsa ordered, and Varian turned to his subordinates to issue new instructions. Then suddenly something clicked in Elsa brain. Anna had been sent to investigate a large aircraft contact. One large enough to house a powerful airborne jammer. “Have we heard back from Anna and the other fighters?”

Yelana responded with a look of concern. “I just checked, no transmissions from them since they acknowledged the instruction to intercept.”

Elsa’s heart sank at the news. Her sister was missing, again. Fighting images of Anna trapped in the burning wreck of her F-35, Elsa concentrated on doing the next right thing. She knew who was on alert duty this morning. She knew who would be sent out into the unknown to look for her sister. Could she jeopardise the safety of another person she deeply cared for when one had potentially already be claimed lost? On the other hand, the country she had been entrusted with was potentially under the greatest threat for a century. The country superseded the royal family, and the feelings of its members. She made her decision, the wringing of her hands in front of her as the only evidence of her mental debate.

“Launch the alert Vipers.”

* * *

_**Northern Norway** _

The rush of freezing wind shocked Anna awake, and the sudden tug of her automatically deploying parachute jolted her back into lucidity. Gripping the straps of her parachute, she tried to get her bearings. Tree. Mountains. Snow. She realised that she would need to find somewhere to land, quickly. She wasn’t high up and only had seconds for her search but all around her were snow covered evergreens.

Sighing in resignation at her lack of options, she aimed for the clearest route between the trees she could find and braced for a painful landing. With the trees fast approaching, she covered her head with her arms and tucked her head against her chest. At least she still had her helmet.

Branches snapped painfully against her arms and body as she went through the canopy, slowing down her momentum until her tattered parachute finally snagged on a tree and she came to a stop still hanging a dozen feet up. Groaning painfully, she checked herself for damage. Arms were in pain and her sleeves were torn in places, but she was otherwise unhurt. Nothing was broken. Mask was gone though.

Deciding that she wasn’t that high up and that the snow below was sufficient to break her fall, Anna tepidly released the straps of her harness and dropped herself down. On landing, she lost balance and fell face first into the snow. 

“Cold cold cold,” Anna muttered as she shook out snow from her sleeves and pant legs. She had removed her helmet and was in the process of shaking the snow out of it when the distinctive sound of helicopter rotors beating against the air caught her attention.

Anna felt her adrenaline rush, instinctively knowing that there was no way anyone friendly could have reached her so soon. Sure enough, she the source of the noise came into view as a Mi-35 Hind wearing the white and green camouflage scheme used by the Weseltonian Army. Anna cursed the fact that her parachute was coloured in a high visibility white and orange. The attack helicopter had spotted the remnants of her parachute and was closing in quickly.

She was already moving as fast as she could, heading west, away from the border. Anna didn’t need to look back to know that men were rappelling out of the Hind and joining her in the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any similarities to the actual chaos in Washington is purely coincidental (but also kinda predicatable)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maren goes off in search of Anna.

List of Aircraft of the Weseltonian Air Force

Aircraft

| 

Origin

| 

Type

| 

Year

| 

Number

| 

Notes  
  
---|---|---|---|---|---  
  
Mirage 2000-5

| 

France

| 

Multi-role

| 

1998

| 

20

| 

Equipped with MICA and Magic 2 missiles  
  
Su-22M4 Fitter

| 

Soviet Union

| 

Ground attack

| 

1987

| 

14

| 

To be replaced by Next Gen Fighter contract winner  
  
MiG-21bis Fishbed

| 

Soviet Union

| 

Fighter bomber

| 

1982

| 

~30

| 

In reserve and/or storage  
  
An-26 Curl

| 

Soviet Union

| 

Medium Transport

| 

1970

| 

4

|   
  
Mi-35 Hind

| 

Soviet Union

| 

Attack Helicopter

| 

1989

| 

3

| 

Further deliveries cancelled after the collapse of the USSR  
  
Mi-17 Hip

| 

Soviet Union

| 

Utility Helicopter

| 

1985

| 

10

|   
  
L-39ZO Albatross

| 

Czechoslovakia

| 

Trainer

| 

1977

| 

9

|   
  
Note: The Weseltonian government announced a requirement for up to 20 fighters in late 2018. Contenders included the Rafael, Eurofighter, F-16 Falcon, MiG-35 Fulcrum and Gripen. Contest postponed indefinitely following arms embargo by Western nations in February 2019. 

**Major Maren ‘Honey’ Nattura**   
**No. 331 Squadron (F-16AM Fighting Falcon)**   
**Royal Norwegian Air Force**

  
_**Bodø Main Air Station** _   
_**Central Norway** _

One minute she was sitting in the ready room watching news coverage of the various terrorist attacks in her country. Then a power outage and a call on the old landline phone later, Maren was sprinting out the door into the frigid cold to her waiting fighter. The F-16s were parked in dispersed hardened aircraft bunkers for added protection against attack a short distance away. As flight leader, hers was parked farthest away.

Despite a decade operating these beauties, she would normally still have paused to admire the war machine she had the privilege of flying and fighting in. Not today though, as she was on Ready Station 15, expected to be airborne within 15 minutes of getting the call to scramble. She had drilled her crew to do it in 10.

Slamming the bunker door open and clambering up the stairs attached to her jet, Maren strapped herself into the cockpit. She quickly double checked that the switches were as she had left them at the start of her shift. By then the ground crew had caught up and were tending the jet and opening the blast doors. One stood ahead of her, holding one hand up with his index finger extended, doing a circling motion; engine intake and exhaust area clear of hazards for start.

Maren hit the ignition button and the auxiliary power unit roused the Pratt & Whitney F100 from it's hibernation. The turbofan engine pitched from a whine to a screech at it spooled up. After confirming that the turbine was at sufficient rpm, she activated the fuel pump and the screech morphed into a roar as the engine ignited and became self sustaining. The head’s up display at her eye level came to life and the cockpit displays turned on as both plane and pilot performed their pre take-off checks.

_BUILT IN TEST IN PROGRESS…_

_POWERPLANT OK  
FLIGHT CONTROL OK  
DATALINK OK_

Three blue arrows appeared on her tactical map as the tactical systems of the four aircraft of her flight synced.  
 _  
FLIGHT INTRUMENTS OK  
ELECTRIC GENERATOR OK  
RADAR OK_

Maren set the radar to look slightly below the horizon for better view of objects below, a personal preference for detecting low flying civilian aircraft or drones.

_  
NAVIGATION OK  
HYDRAULICS OK  
PAYLOAD MANAGEMENT OK_

She checked on the weapons page that today’s loadout of a pair of AMRAAMs on the wingtips, a pair of Sidewinders and a pair of external fuel tanks under the wings, plus a full load of 511 rounds for the Vulcan cannon were all green. That confirmed that the ground crew had completed removing all the safety pins.

_  
SELF PROTECTION SYSTEMS OK_

_SELF TEST COMPLETE…  
ALL SYSTEMS GO_

Satisfied that everything was ready for take-off, she called the rest of her flight.

“Gale flight, check in.”

“Two… uh… Good to go!” Lieutenant Nils had only recently joined the squadron. Eager but as yet still inexperienced, he would likely be one of the last pilots they would receive before they converted to the F-35.

“Three up and running.”

“Four fired up.” Captains Arvid and Ingrid were comparatively old hand and like Maren, were veterans of deployments to Afghanistan.

“Tower, Gale lead. Ready for tasking.”

Bodø tower responded from backup radio set, not as crisp as the normal one but perfectly legible.

“Gale flight, proceed to runway two-five for immediate departure on heading zero-four-five. Expedite.”

 _That sounds especially urgent,_ Maren thought to herself as she closed the canopy. She returned the salutes from her ground crew and gave them a rock on gesture as she rolled past them. The expedite instruction gave her the excuse to use the F-16s full afterburner for take-off, something that she savoured as the jet had plenty of excess power. The four Norwegian jets thundered down the runway in quick succession, arcing over the fjord and banking right onto their assigned heading. She checked her running stopwatch. Eight minutes and fifty seven seconds.

 _A full minute to spare,_ Maren smiled to herself, her backup analogue dials spinning crazily as the F-16 rapidly gained speed and altitude.

“Gale flight, switch control to Ice Palace.”

Maren acknowledged the call and made the frequency switch. She was not expecting the voice that answered.

“Gale flight, Ice Palace actual. Twenty one minutes ago, a training flight consisting of eight Vipers from Ørland, callsign Hostile, and my sister’s F-35 were sent to investigate an unresponsive contact near the border. We have had no communications from any of them since. Your mission is to proceed to the intercept area and re-establish contact with the flight and escort them back, or ascertain their current location if unable.”

 _I cannot afford to lose her too,_ Maren silently completed for Elsa. She wanted to promise her queen that she won’t return home without Anna safe and sound, but it would be highly unprofessional to say that over the radio.

“We’ll find them,” she assured instead.

“Thank you, Major,” Elsa responded, and Maren detected a little bit of familiar emotion in her tone. Elsa continued, “Military activity by Russian and Weseltonian forces have been reported. Your rules of engagement is yellow. I repeat yellow. Interference from jamming is likely. Be prepared for anything. And please be careful.”

Maren hoped that it wasn’t wishful thinking that she felt like the last part of the message was addressed to her specifically. However the yellow ROE did cause her to sit up and take notice, it was looser than what she operated on during her time in Afghanistan. To have permission to open fire without express permission from command or being shot at first while ostensibly still in your own country’s airspace meant that things were bad and could get very much worse. _  
  
_The Norwegian jets proceeded in a loose combat formation, over a mile apart from each other as ordered by Maren, so that more ground could be covered and for tactical flexibility in combat. She had an increasingly bad feeling as she went through possible explanations for Anna’s lack of contact. _An accident or mechanical failure that affected all nine jets? Statistically impossible. Were they being jammed but otherwise still in the area, unharmed? No, they had enough jets to send a couple back to report. Had the jets been intercepted and escorted elsewhere? Unlikely, even unarmed, a fighter pilot would not be forced to go anywhere, especially if they could run for home instead. That left the scenario that they had all just been shot down._ She hoped, mainly for Elsa’s sake, that this wasn’t the case. 

A blip on her radar screen caught her attention. Maren focused her radar on the spot, and eight low flying radar targets in two flights of four were detected. Could these be the missing planes, returning home safely after all?

“Hostile flight, this is Gale on guard, come in, over,” she tried over the emergency frequency, with only silence as her answer.

“Bogeys, eleven o’clock low, 40 miles. I’m going to take us lower for a visual ID,” Maren informed her flight. At their current closure rate, they would be overhead in mere minutes.

She looked out her canopy and picked up the fast traveling dots that quickly enlarged, their green and brown camouflage paint not blending perfectly against the snow covered evergreen forest they were flying over. The silhouettes she saw were harder, cruder than one that would belong to an F-16. Her mind raced through her mental aircraft recognition guides and settled on the cold war era Su-22 Fitter attack planes. 

“I think they’re Fitters,” Arvid had reached the same conclusion.

“Looks like they have a Weseltonian paint job,” Ingrid concurred.

“These aren’t the jets we’re looking for,” Nils added.

_He is right, but can we afford to ignore so many foreign aircraft heading right for our base?_

“Alright new plan, we’re going to come around and pursue. Noses cold, we don’t want them to know we’re onto them. Three, Four, follow the northern group. I’ll call it in,” Maren ordered. She set her radar on standby, ensuring that her quarry won’t be alerted and rolled in behind them.

“Roger, in pursuit,” Arvid replied as he and Ingrid broke off from the formation.

“Ice palace, Gale flight. Come in, over.”

There was no reply. Maren tried again. More silence.

 _Looks like Elsa was right about the jamming. We’re on our own. If they’re hostile and we let them through, they’ll wreck the base and wipe out half our air force in one stroke. On the other hand, maybe they got lost on their own training mission? Shooting them down could start a war... No pressure, only the fate of the country depends on it_.

“Boss, are we shooting?” Nils urgently questioned. The specks ahead of her and Nils were growing bigger as they caught up. Bodø was just a few short minutes of flight time away. Maren was running out of time for a decision. A few hours ago her most pressing issue was whether to call Elsa by her name or title if Elsa was able to find the time to meet with her after her duty. She had decided on name if it was a relatively private meeting, otherwise title if they met in a crowd.

_There are enough mitigating circumstances in case I get court martialled. Here goes nothing._

“Gale flight, weapons free! Engage, ENGAGE!” Her adrenaline rush crept into her voice.

Simultaneously Maren flicked her master arm switch from safe to off and energised her radar. She locked the two leading aircraft; the trailing two would be engaged by Nils. The targeting data was fed to the AMRAAMs on her wingtips in a fraction of a second. A ‘SHOOT’ text appeared above the target squares. Her thumb mashed the fire button twice.

Eight Norwegian missiles streaked towards their targets. The Weseltonian Su-22s scattered in panic, desperately trying to evade the missiles, but to no avail. They were two generations out-teched and fired at from near ideal positions. Maren watched her two missiles reduce their targets to exploding fireballs, crashing amidst the surrounding forest.

 _Man, Elsa would never forgive me if I accidently started a war,_ she thought ruefully as she overflew the smouldering wrecks, noting a couple of descending parachutes as well.

“Wo hoo! Got them!” cheered Nils.

“Splash four here too,” Arvid’s calm tone contrasted strongly against the younger pilot.

“We have chutes here,” added Ingird. “Better call in some choppers to pick them… SHIT! THREE BREAK RIGHT, BREAK RI…”

“They’re behind us! Can’t shake…” Arvid’s transmission cut off as well.

Maren kicked herself mentally for her carelessness. She hadn’t pulled up behind a formation of enemy jets, but right in the middle of one! Now they would be lucky to escape with their lives after her error.

“Nils! Drop tanks and clear six!” she instructed. They will discard their external fuel tanks for additional agility and turn towards each other, making sure that there was nobody sneaking up behind the other.

While executing her turn, Maren dropped flares as a precaution. The action immediately paid off as a Magic missile was distracted long enough by them to be unable to match the F-16’s turn and detonated too far away to cause damage.

 _Damn that was close! Where is the bastard?!_ Maren cursed as she evaded her unseen enemy.

“Your six is clear boss! I see the fucking Mirage that got Ingrid and Arvid, I’ll avenge them!” Nils declared.

“No wait! Someone took a shot at me and I don’t have eyes on them!” Maren protested. As she continued a defensive turn, her radar swept Nils’s location, and received two returns instead of one.

“Nils, the bandit is behind you! Turn back so I can get him!”

“I’ve almost got this guy! Fox Two!” Nils announced the launch a Sidewinder missile.

 _Too far,_ Maren thought and was proven correct as Nils’s short ranged missile failed to match the Mirage’s desperate turn. She tried to lock her own missile on the Mirage threatening her wingman, but the heat seeker was confused by the amount of flares all three aircraft in front of her were launching. The lock indicator danced drunkenly across her HUD, between the heat sources of the Mirage ahead of her, Nils's F-16 and the decoy flares between. Maren manually guided the missile seeker, only for it to break the lock again once she relinquished control.

“Nils! Break right now! I don’t have a good shot!” Maren couldn’t risk shooting down her own ally and held her fire.

“Just keep him off a few seconds longer! Got a good lock! Fox Two!”

This time, his Sidewinder missile sent the Weseltonian careening towards the forest below in flames, but the remaining Mirage also launched his own missile. Maren immediately shouted a warning but could only watch helplessly as the other F-16 got impacted and joined its victim in the trees. Nils didn’t manage to eject.

“GODDAMMIT!” Tears involuntarily formed in Maren’s eyes as she witnessed the death of her young charge. The Weseltonian jet was now fled back towards the border and Maren refocused her efforts to shoot him down; there will be time to grieve later. Her Sidewinder missile made a screeching sound, telling her that it had a solid lock on the interloper. Maren fired and didn’t miss.

Slumping back into her seat and sighing, Maren may have prevailed, but she didn’t feel like a victor. Even this moment’s respite was short lived as her radar picked up four more contacts speeding towards Bodø. Drawing on her physical, mental and emotional reserves, Maren pushed her thrust lever all the way forward and set off in chase. Her nimble fighter responded, shattering the sound barrier in full afterburner.

The quartet of Weseltonian Su-22s were moving at their top speed, which was less than the F-16 even before taking the ordnance they are carrying into account. Realising their predicament, the trailing pair broke off, one to the left and the other to the right, while the remaining two continued to their objective. Maren recognised their intention; she would be forced to engage the pair that broke off. Ignoring them and chasing down the first pair would allow them to come up behind her and shoot her down at their leisure. She checked the remaining distance to Bodø. Too near already, she will need to deal with the covering pair fast.

Going after the one that darted left first, as it was closer, Maren locked and fired her last missile. The Sidewinder wasn’t fooled by the flares and impacted the hapless intruder. Barely reducing speed she banked right. The other Weseltonian had slowed down and performed a tight turn, attempting to force Maren to overshoot into his sights. She anticipated that tactic and arrested her speed with an inverted climb and diving then down in a perfectly timed and executed high speed yoyo manoeuvre, ending up neatly behind her quarry. The Su-22 reversed its turn and tried to dive to safety, but the F-16 had the agility and Maren the finesse to match.

On her HUD, she guided the green crosshairs slightly ahead of the Su-22 and pulled the trigger. Her aim was true and the M61A1 rotary cannon spat out a hundred rounds of high explosive shells at the Soviet built aircraft, ripping off a wing and almost bisecting it in half. The defeated pilot managed to eject, and Maren felt a tinge of empathy that a fellow pilot had survived. And then she was banking her F-16 back towards the remaining pair of Weseltonians and accelerated hard, with every intention of killing them. She mentally calculated the remaining distance to base and her closure rate with the Su-22s, it was going to be close.

“Ice Palace, Gale Lead! You have incoming hostiles!” she tried warning them over the radio.

“Uh… roger Gale, we have more fighters currently moving for departure,” came the reply.

Maren cursed out loud. That meant her colleagues were no longer relatively safe in their shelters, but sitting ducks on the runway or taxiways. She realised that she could have tried calling them sooner but had forgotten in the unexpected rush of events. Now more people were in the line of fire because of another one of her oversights.

“Get them to expedite! We are less than ten miles out!”

She willed her jet to go faster, but it was already giving everything it had. The distance indicator to the Su-22s was ticking down quickly but not fast enough. Then, white smoke trails appeared under the wings of the Weseltonians. Maren had failed and could only watch impotently as their missiles streaked towards the base, with the first pair of F-16s tantalizingly just about to start their take off runs. Fireballs erupted as fuel tanks exploded and ordnance detonated in chain reaction secondary explosions as the hostile missiles found their targets.

 _Oh God! Fuck! NO!_ Maren screamed internally as she watched her friends’ and colleagues’ fiery deaths macabrely play out in front of her. 

Fighting back tears in her eyes, she focused on avenging her fallen brothers and sisters. Maren lined up the closer Su-22 as it prepared a strafing run on the hangars. Another burst of 20mm rounds ended the attack and sent the jet crashing down near the passenger terminal at the civilian half of the airport, starting several fires but fortunately missing an airliner full of passengers.

Explosions from further bombs erupted amongst the aircraft bunkers and nearby administrative buildings; including the one Maren was in less than hour ago, as the remaining Weseltonian expanded the remainder of his ordnance. The sole survivor turned his Su-22 sharply towards Maren, setting up a head on attack.

She should have declined the engagement and used the F-16’s superior performance to get herself into a better position where the Su-22 would have no opportunity to turn the tables against her. With red mist descending, she instead accepted the challenge, giving the Weseltonian a chance to prevail when he shouldn’t have had any. Now Maren faced the Su-22’s pair more powerful NR-30 autocannons. Large 30mm shells sailed past her canopy as she pulled her own trigger, screaming into her oxygen mask in a fatalistic rage. After just three seconds, and then the gun ceased firing, her remaining ammunition expanded.

While firing a shells less than half the size, the Vulcan cannon Maren was using fired a hundred rounds a second, three times faster than both of the Su-22’s combined. More importantly, it was more accurate and Maren had the skill to use it. The Weseltonian burst into flames as her superior marksmanship prevailed. Realising that she was not only still alive but had also won, she threw the F-16s into a barrel roll, barely sidestepping the path of the wreckage in time. In the split second that she flew past, she noted, with no small amount of satisfaction, that the opposing aircraft’s cockpit was drenched in red. 

Still, her burning airport below her was a stark reminder of her failure. How could she protect her country when she couldn’t even protect her base? What would Elsa think as she had made no progress looking for Anna? To think that in the morning, the most pressing matter on Maren’s mind was if she should address Elsa by name or title, deciding the former if they had a relatively private meeting and the latter if it was a larger group. What could she say to her now? Orbiting above, she was dimly aware of flashing lights from fire engines as they started dousing the fires.

“Gale lead, you’re clear to land,” came the terse call from the tower.

Figuring that she might as well get over with it, she landed her fighter. As she taxied around the smouldering and sometimes still burning detritus of the attack, she noticed crews pausing their clearing work and staring at her, some even pointing at her.

_They must hate me. Jokes on them cause I hate myself more right now._

A ground crew with glowing batons directed Maren in through the blast doors of a hardened aircraft shelter. She shut down her F-16 while the ground crew silently got to work readying it for another combat mission. A small crowd of personnel had gathered outside the bunker and began creeping in. Dejectedly she climbed out of her plane and down the attached ladder, barely stopping herself from throwing down her helmet, and faced the people she had failed.

_Well, let’s have it then. Give me your worst, I deserve it._

They stood facing each other for a moment, making Maren feel even more naked when suddenly someone started clapping. The wave of euphoria spread and everyone cheered and hollered. A chant began somewhere near the back, and it took a while for her to register what was being repeated.

“NA-TUR-RA! NA-TUR-RA!”

Shocked and puzzled by the reaction, Maren took a step back, bumping into one of her groundcrew.

“Oh Olaf! I’m so sorry,” Maren hastily apologised. The perennially cheerful conscript didn’t seem to mind and had one of his trademark grins.

“You were awesome Major!” the teen exclaimed, enveloping her in a tight hug, rank and protocol be dammed. Maren was too stunned give any further reaction beyond an awkward tap on Olaf’s shoulder. Olaf excitedly began describing his perspective of events from the ground.

“We were like ‘Ahhhh! They’re coming!’ Suddenly there explosions everywhere! Then we saw those two planes coming straight in! And the first plane dropped the bombs! Boom! Boom! Boom!” Hands were waved for emphasis. “It really hurt my ears which are still ringing now by the way! Luckily those buildings had already been evacuated!”

Maren breathed a sigh of relief as Olaf animatedly continued, “But the other was heading right over us! We were like ‘Oh shit! We’re screwed!’ And then you came in and blew that bastard out of the sky! Sorry can I say bastard? Permission the say bastard, ma’am! Anyway, we were like ‘Yeah! She got the bastard!’ Then the finale! You stared death right in the face, one on one, guns only, and then Bang! Bang! Bang!” Olaf fired from finger guns. “You stuffed the bastard full of lead! We all cheered like we won all the hockey and football matches at once!”

While Olaf was recalling the story, people were coming up to shake Maren’s hand, which she numbly shook in return. She belatedly realised, that from his point of view, it was far easier to focus on the further damage she had prevented instead of her failure to prevent the attack at all. Maybe she should cut herself a bit of slack; after all she’d been saying the same to Elsa all those years ago.

_No, people died because of my mistake. Maybe I did okay, but it should have gone much better._

Distracted by her train of thought, she didn’t realise that the boisterous crowd had suddenly fallen silent. Then, she found spotted the reason. Elsa herself emerged from the crowd that had parted to give her some space. Their eyes met and Maren stood frozen for a few awkward seconds, unsure how to react, before falling back on her military training and giving a salute to her monarch. 

Elsa let her mask drop momentarily in what Maren interpreted as disappointment, but it was too quick for even her to get a good read, before returning Maren’s salute. The queen walked a couple of steps closer.

“Congratulations on a job well done Major Nattura,” Elsa said, skillfully projecting her voice so that the gathered crowd could hear as well.

“We have lost brothers and sisters this morning and whoever is behind this attack will be dealt with severely,” the blonde continued solemnly. “We are currently planning our strike back, but be assured that our brethren’s sacrifice will not be in vain. For as long as we all do our parts, our flag will always fly. Now return to your duties!”

The crowed melted away, just leaving Maren’s ground crew, who were attending the F-16 while trying their best to hide their glances at the pair of women and pretending that they were not eavesdropping.

Maren was about to apologise for not being able to stop the attack and for not finding Anna, but before she could, Elsa spoke first in a much more serious tone.

“Our comms are down and we’re quite blind right now. We’ll need to debrief you as soon as possible. Do you need some time for yourself first or can you come with me now?”

The fighter pilot immediately picked up on the double entendre and briefly wondered if Elsa did that on purpose.

_Of course she did it on purpose; Elsa would never make a faux paus like that unintentionally…_

Maren couldn’t help but grin, her melancholy thoughts briefly forgotten. Even after all this time, Elsa could still make her feel better with so little effort. She then realised that Elsa was still standing in front of her, a suspiciously neutral expression on her face.

“I’ll come with you!” Maren hurriedly blurted. Elsa gave a small smile, before turning back out of the bunker, where a Mercedes G-Wagon jeep was waiting. Maren hurriedly gathered her equipment and followed her queen out into the afternoon sun. 


End file.
